


Big little-brother

by TheIceQueen



Series: Fear and brotherhood [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Agony, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Awesome Jack Maynard, Brotherly Love, Caretaker Jack Maynard, Caretaking, Crying, Embarrassment, Fear, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Healing, Holding Hands, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, MRI, Making Up, Maynard-moments, Medical Inaccuracies, Nausea, Overeating, Pain, Painkillers, Poor Conor Maynard, Recovery, Seizures, Sleepiness, Talking, Vomiting, Worried Jack Maynard, Worry, like a lot, more like one long Maynard-moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: After the accident in "Between brothers" Jack moves in with Conor to keep an eye on him, while he's recovering from the head-trauma.





	1. Grounding

**Author's Note:**

> I never planned on writing this, but I got such a nice message from JensenDean on another work, with a request, and it peaked my interest so I decided to give it a go.
> 
> The prompt:  
> "could you write a bit on the effect of the accident on Conor? I think a head injury is pretty bad, so maybe a severe migraine/a fainting episodes/a nightmare or anything  
> where any of the boys (preferably jack coz i love brotherly love) are with him.."
> 
> Hope you'll like it.

His shaking hands had a tight grip on the toilet in front of him when he slowly got up on two legs. He almost fell when moving to the sink. He looked in the mirror. After a moment of calming his body he managed to focus enough to see himself.

His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale and sweaty and he was sure some of the sick he’s been emptying into the toilet were still on his chin.

“Are you okay?”

The voice was like nails to his brain and his knees almost gave in under him. His hands tightened around the edges of the sink and he closed his eyes. Then he felt a hand carefully placed on his shoulder. And the next word were only a whisper.

“Come.”

An arm wrapped itself around his back and he was turned slowly around.

“I’ve got you. Come on.”

His brother’s voice was comforting. Even as a whisper he would always be able to recognize it.

They moved slowly. Only as fast as Conor could manage. Jack right next to him, supporting him slightly, but ready to catch his older brother if he’d fall.

Slowly Conor laid back on the bed. The room was dark, and the window was open, so it was cooler than the bathroom. The cold air felt good on his burning face.

“Lay still. I’ll get your pills.”

Conor didn’t manage to nod but answered by lifting his hand a bit from the mattress and hoped that Jack would take it as a sign that he’d heard him.

It felt like half an hour went by before Jack returned, but Conor knew it could only had been a minute or two.

“Here, sit up a bit.”

Jack’s hand made its way under Conor’s neck and pushed him up slowly. Conor felt the whole room spinning and was sure he was going to be sick again, but he knew that the pain relief was close if he could just manage to swallow those two pills. With the smallest crack between his eyelids he managed to see the outline of Jack’s form and grabbed on to the sleeve on his t-shirt. He tried to pull himself up, but with the added pain from elevating his head he had to give up. He fell backwards into the pillow. Still holding on to the sleeve he crumpled to his side, knees bent and hiding his head in his other arm.

“Relax. Take a breather.”

With the help from Jack’s hand moving up and down his upper arm he managed to take a few, almost, deep breaths.

“Let’s try this again. Let me do the work.”

Jack’s voice was closer almost right by his ear, but not louder. Still only a whisper slightly more profound than a breath. Conor was rolled slowly to his back. The room was spinning again, but the pain didn’t become much worse when he was passive himself.

“Now, breathe again.”

Conor followed order and soon the arm was under his head again.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

Jack lifted Conor’s upper-body with both hands. Slowly and steady. Conor did his best to hold on to reality and not pass out while his younger brother moved to sit behind him and hold him up. Soon he was motionless leaning back in his brother’s arms. He leaned his head back to rest on Jack’s collarbone and for a moment they both sat there waiting for Conor to be ready.

“Okay.”

The word came out as only a breath, but Jack must have heard it, because he reached for the pills and water on the night-stand.

“Here. One at a time.”

He placed the first pill in Conor’s mouth and held the glass to his lips. The water was good. Cold, and it kind of got rid of the taste of vomit. Swallowing however, was loud in his head and sent a new pain wave through his skull. After the second pill he was not sure what was up and down, his body was limp, and he just had to trust that Jack wouldn’t let him fall out of bed. He felt a hand on his forehead holding it in place. His head must have fallen towards his chest but right now it wasn’t possible to lift it, so Jack had to hold him for a little longer.

 

He had no idea as to how he’d gotten to lie down on his back again. His forehead was colder, and something was touching his face.

“What?”

He retracted from the touch but had to give in to the sudden flare of pain and kept still.

“Shh. Conor, I’m just cleaning you up a bit. Do you want me to stop?”

Conor opened his eyes and looked at the blurry outline of his brother in the dark room. The cold on his face was good, and when he kept still the headache was not that bad anymore.

“No.”

He closed his eyes and let Jack wash the sick from his face and change the towel on his forehead to a colder one. Jack placed it over his eyes too. He felt Jack’s hand on his shoulder, only the thumb moving in small circles. He was grateful that he stayed. That small movement was the only way he was able to recognize up and down. Soon his headache had diminished enough that he was able to sleep.


	2. I'm okay

Jack had stayed with Conor till he had fallen asleep.

He had warned him about working too long, but Conor had decided that he could manage to get that last track done.

The first week after Conor had gotten home from the hospital he’d been tired and had slept a lot, he’d complained about a slight headache, but the doctor had said that was to be expected. After they decided that it was time to move out of Zoë and Alfie’s, Jack moved in with Conor. Even though, Conor had thought it was redundant, the doctor had suggested that he wasn’t left alone for long the first weeks. During the next week Conor had gotten more energy and was adamant on starting to work again, but the headaches had gotten worse. After one terrible night, where Conor had been puking on and off for an hour and then clinging on to the covers on the bed just to ground himself, Jack had decided that they had to talk to the doctor.

Conor had been given the all-clear again with strict orders to take it easy and avoid too much noise and too much screen-work. Two things that didn’t quite fit into Conor’s plans of working. He’d gotten some tablets for migraines just in case of another episode. Over the last four days he’d had three.

 

Jack was sitting in the living room, writing. Jack had been writing everything down. Keeping track on the number of episodes, the severity of them and the amount of pain medication Conor had to take. Last night had been a bad one. The worst since they had been to the doctor and Jack was starting to worry if this would be permanent or even get worse.

It was getting close to ten AM and Conor had been sleeping for almost eleven hours. He wondered if he should go and see if he was okay or if he needed anything, but it had only been half an hour since he’d last stuck his head through the door and confirmed that his brother was sound asleep. The painkillers made him tired, and Jack was sure it had to be exhausting to be in that much pain too. He still decided to go check.

Conor almost bumped into him when he went to the bedroom door.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Conor didn’t seem to be fully awake, but he was standing on his own, kind of. He was leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m okay. Tired.”

“I can see that.” Jack put a hand on Conor’s shoulder just to make sure he wouldn’t fall over. “Hungry too?”

“Yeah.” Conor nodded but that was clearly a mistake. He lost balance and Jack only just managed to pull him close, so he wouldn’t fall.

“Hey, hey. Easy now. How about you eat in bed and then get up when you’re actually awake.”

Conor just nodded against Jack’s shoulder and let his little brother support him back to bed.

Jack went to find some bread and juice. The Maynard-brothers had learned the hard way that, no matter how hungry Conor was right now, a full breakfast on a totally empty stomach wasn’t a good idea. When he went into the room he paused at the door for a second with his hand on the light-switch. Conor understood the gesture and nodded. Jack turned on the light, and Conor flinched and supported his head in his hands.

“Okay?”

Jack was still at the door ready to turn off the lights again if needed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

Jack placed the tray one the night-stand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Waiting for his big-brother to look up. Eventually Conor relaxed his shoulders and took his hands away, his head was still down.

“Are you still having a headache?”

“No.” Conor started to sit up right. “I mean it was gone. I just need to adjust to the light.”

Jack waited for Conor to reach for the food himself.

“Maybe you should see the doctor again.” Conor looked surprised that Jack would suggest that. “It’s been three times. He said that we should call if it got worse. Last night was pretty bad.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock. I was there, remember?”

Conor seemed more confused than angry. Maybe he was overthinking this? He could have been. Jack silenced and Conor obviously sensed the worry from him.

“Jack. I’m okay. I worked for too long. You warned me, and I didn’t listen. I’m good now. I just need to eat and take a shower.”

Conor squeezed Jack’s upper arm and looked him in the eyes. “I’m good. Okay. I’ll be more careful.”

Jack nodded and smiled back at his brother who already had his mouth full of white bread.

* * *

Conor had made good of his promise and taken it easy. He had taken a day off from working and the next day he only worked half an hour at a time. He was starting to feel better. His energy was up again, and the small headaches he’d been hiding from Jack were almost gone too.

“Wanna play a game?”

Conor had been lying on the couch for an hour just trying to figure out what to do with his time, he was getting restless. He’d never been much of a reader, but even a book sounded appealing by now. He picked up the controller to the game-set and held one out for Jack to take.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jack walked hesitant towards the couch.

“I haven’t done anything for over two hours now. I’m going stir-crazy here. Besides I haven’t had any signs of a headache all day.”

Jack sat down and took the controller. He still looked at Conor like he wasn’t sure if he should go along with this.

“C’mon, man. I’ll stop at the first sign of anything and we’ll just be playing for half an hour. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They played for twenty minutes before Conor felt his eye twitch. He didn’t think much of it before his hand did the same. It was only a slight shake, but Conor paused the game. This was new. He had respect for new symptoms, there shouldn’t be any of those while recovering.

“What?”

Jack looked nervous, on the verge of panic.

“I’m okay. I just…”

Conor looked at his hands holding the controller. His left hand clearly shaking. Jack took the controller away and held on to his hand.

“Conor. Speak to me. Are you getting a migraine?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m o…” He couldn’t get the words out. “I’mk, I’mk.”

Then the pain hit. Like a truck. Everything went white and he lost control of his body. His head was exploding, and his body was numb except for two hands holding him in a tight grip.

* * *

By pure instinct, Jack got Conor lying down on the couch. His brother was shaking so violently he had trouble keeping him on there.

“Conor?”

He tried to get through quietly first but soon he was yelling in panic to get some kind of response from his brother, but to no avail. He turned the sound on the game off and frantically picked the phone from his pocket, while still pressing his side against Conor so he wouldn’t roll of the couch.

The woman on the 999-call had been very patient and had asked all the things Jack had forgotten to check, like if he was breathing or not. Jack couldn’t tell with the seizure being so violently, but she had asked if he made any noises and when Jack listened he could definitely hear a breathing. More of a gasp, but air was moving.

The lady had told him to stay on the line till the paramedics arrived. It felt forever, but she kept reassuring him that they would be there quick.

Conor stopped moving.

“He… He stopped.”

“Is he awake?” The lady sounded strangely calm.

“No.” Jack’s voice cracked.

Conor was limp on the couch. It was like a switch had disconnected all the muscles that, just a second ago had been tensed, shaking and made his brother look like he was being electrocuted. The only movement now was Conor’s chest. He was breathing too slow and too shallow, but Jack found comfort in that at least he was breathing.

“Conor?”

Jack turned his brother’s head towards himself. His head felt heavy falling to it’s side and the face didn’t show any signs that Conor was registering anything. He was cold and sweaty and so pale that Jack for a moment thought that he was bleading from somewhere.

“Wake up, Conor. Please.”

Nothing happened and Jack had to settle with watching his brother's breathing till the paramedics came.


	3. Little big-brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about their parents so the characters are purely fiction. I have no idea how the real personalities are.

Jack wasn’t sure if he should go to the waiting area, but he couldn’t tear himself from the window into Conor’s room. Their parents were in there. He’d called them from the ambulance and they’d arrived at the hospital only half an hour after the ambulance was there. Thankfully Conor had woken up before that. He’d been confused at first, but as he realized what was going on he’d stopped talking all together. He was talking to their parents now, though. He looked embarrassed and he seemed to be answering everything with nods or single words.

Their dad gave Conor a hug and left him and their mom alone. When he joined Jack in the hallway he put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the window. They sat down at some chairs a few feet from the room. Jack was sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands together and looking at the floor. He felt apologetic. Why hadn’t he called them earlier? Why didn’t he tell them how bad it was? He should have stopped Conor from working and never agreed to the game.

“Da-d.” His voice cracked. His dad put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Jack.” His dad talked clearly, and the word was firm, but he didn’t sound angry. “Don’t be sorry, you hear me? Conor told us what happened. It’s not you fault. You did everything right.”

Their dad was never one for the openly emotional conversations. None of them ever had any doubt about how he felt about his kids, he just wasn’t the kind of man to have long deep conversations with. They had their mom for that.

“I... I should have stopped him.”

“You stop that!” Jack was surprised by the sudden change in tone. He looked up and met his father’s eyes. They were kind, but his face was firm. “You stop blaming yourself. Your brother is an adult. He has to make these decisions by himself. You can only be there for him and help if he wants it. For what I understand, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Isn’t it?”

His dad kept looking him in the eyes. Jack felt exposed and suddenly realized that his dad wanted an answer.

“I guess.”

“Isn’t it?!” That was definitely not the answer that his dad wanted.

“Yes, it is.” Just saying that out loud made him feel better. Not good, but better.

His mom came through the door and came over. She’d been crying on the way to the hospital, Jack could see that, but she hadn’t since she laid eyes on Conor. By instinct, Jack got up and hugged her. She hugged him back and spoke silently in his ear.

“I’m proud of you.”

That was the last stone in the wall; he was okay now. His mom let go and looked at him. She brushed away a tear from his cheek, he didn’t even know was there.

“Conor is okay right now.” His dad came over and put a hand on his shoulder and an arm around his wife. “They’ll keep him over night and take a few more tests. He can have one person staying with him, and he asked for it to be you. Are you okay with that?”

Why him? Why not their mom or dad? He was confused but glad. He didn’t want to leave his brother here and go home. He nodded at his parents.

“Yeah, I can stay. What about you?”

“We’ll go home and accept that our kids are grown-ups.” His dad smiled and squeezed his wife and she nodded with a smile too and put her head on the shoulder of the bigger man.

Before they left she turned and hugged Jack once more. “If things get scary and you have any doubt about what to do, you call someone. Okay?” Jack nodded. “Don’t be afraid to call 999, but event if it’s not that bad, and you start worrying too much, you call someone. You can always call us, but it doesn’t have to be us. Just don’t sit with the doubt alone. Promise me.”

Jack was tearing op again. His mom was just as worried for his mental health as she was for Conor’s physical. He nodded and sniffled.

“I promise.”

* * *

He couldn’t wait to get into Conor’s room, but now that he was at the door he found that he was brazing himself. He had no idea why, maybe he just needed a break before the next conversation. Conor hadn’t been talking to him since he came out of the confusion from waking up in an ambulance and now he’d asked for him over their parents. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Conor looked small. His big brother had always been just that. Big. Even though they were about the same height now, he always had been the bigger one and Jack still saw him that way. He sat down on the chair his mom had been occupying just a few minutes ago.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” Conor didn’t make eye contact. Jack took his hand, but Conor pulled it back, and turned his head away from Jack. Jack’s stomach sunk. Was he embarrassed or sad? Either way it made Jack feel like crap.

“What is it Conor? Talk to me, please.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack almost didn’t hear him. He was still turned the other way.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you, to the doctors. I scared you. I’m so sorry.” Conor was crying. Jack hadn’t seen his brother cry since the time he himself was in a hospital bed after the attack.

Jack took his hand again and this time he didn’t let his brother pull it away. “It’s okay. Conor.”

“But I made you go in an ambulance and into the hospital again. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I made you stay with me. It was selfish. I should have asked mom. Jack, I’m sorry.”

Jack couldn’t handle seeing his big-brother cry. He was sure he would have started himself if he wasn’t so stunned by everything coming out of Conor’s mouth.

“Conor. Look at me.” Conor didn’t. He kept repeating “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jack turned his brother’s head by the chin. “Look at me.” Conor stopped talking and eventually he looked at Jack, not quite making eye-contact. He looked like he was about to get the scolding of a life time.

“Conor. I’m good. I’m okay with being here. I can handle it when I’m not a patient. I want to be here. Do you hear me?”

Conor nodded and swallowed. He wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Explain something, will you?” Conor looked frightened, and Jack for a moment wondered if this was the time to ask, but he needed to understand. “Why didn’t you ask mom or dad to stay? I mean if you were afraid that I’d be mad.”

“I made sure to make them ask you if it was okay.” Conor talked fast, his eyes were wide open, and his body tensed.

“Calm down. They did, and I told them that it was okay. I still want to be here, remember?”

Conor nodded and relaxed again. “I… it’s…” He trailed off, got distant in is his look, like he didn’t knew the words.

“What Conor. C’mon.” Jack smiled at his brother, but it didn’t seem to register. Conor tried to pull his hand from Jack again but Jack didn’t let go. A few seconds later Conor gave up avoiding the questing and tried again.

“You understand, they don’t.” Conor looked at Jack and they made eye-contact for the first time since the spit-second when he woke up in the ambulance.

“Understand what?”

“Hospitals. How it feels. You know?”

Jack knew. Jack nodded and smiled. There wasn’t need for further explanation. Conor wasn’t afraid of hospitals or doctors but the insecurity about what was wrong and what was going to happen was painted all over his face. If their parents were there, Conor would have tried to hide it and with the added exhaustion from the seizure if would have been impossible. It could have gone two ways. Their mom would have seen and been unnecessary worried and sad and Conor would feel guilty. Or Conor would have been quiet, shot down and hiding everything, and that could have made it worse. Jack had been there. He knew.

“I talked to the doctor after mom and dad left. He said they’d only need an MRI and if that’s good you can go home tomorrow. I’ll stay, okay.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s my turn to help you. But we really shouldn’t make this into a competition.”

They both smiled and then the room felt silent. Conor was tired. He needed rest, and who knew when they would be ready with that MRI? Soon Conor was sleeping still holding Jack’s hand. Jack’s other hand was still in a cast from the car-crash. He really got away from that as the lucky one. Last time he had a cast on his arm, he was the one in the hospital bed, freaking out. Conor had been taking care of everything, even though he must have felt so helpless. If he could just be half of what Conor had been for him, he knew it would help.


	4. Not again

“Would you prefer the lights turned down?” The technician who was responsible for Conor’s MRI had obviously seen him squinting his eyes as they came into the room. Conor nodded and the young, dark-haired man turned a knob on the wall and the room slowly turned darker. Conor relaxed a bit in the wheelchair Jack had been following through countless halls to get here with his brother.

“Do you need help getting op here?” The man gestured to the small table in front of the machine.

“No, I’m good.” Conor got up and walked over to the table.

Jack stayed at the door not sure what to do. He had a hunch, he wasn’t allowed to be in the room when they started the machine. The technician smiled at him as he turned around to get some headphones. The man seemed to understand that he didn’t knew what was expected and Jack was sure he would tell him when he was done with Conor.

“You have to wear these. I can talk to you through them and it’s to protect your ears. It gets loud in there.”

Conor sat up and was clearly dizzy from the movement since the man grabbed his shoulder and supported him. Jack instinctively moved a few steps closer.

“Just, how loud are we talking about?” Conor sounded worried. He didn’t do well with high noises, the first migraine he had was a direct result of listening to a music-track for too long.

The man looked back at Jack and then at Conor. “It’s enough that ear protection is recommended. Most people prefer to listen to music while the machine is on.”

Conor’s eyes found Jack and the pleading look on his face made Jack come all the way over and grab his shoulder. “It’s okay Conor, it will be over before you know it.”

By the look on the technician’s face he estimated that wasn’t quite right, but neither of them corrected the statement.

“Let’s get this over with. Okay? Then we can go home.” Jack pushed Conor’s shoulder slightly to indicate that he should lay down. Conor did, but he didn’t seem convinced that this was going to be fine.

“I have to ask you this…” The technician who Jack could now see was only slightly taller than him, waited for Conor to nod before he continued. “Do you have any metal on you?” Conor shook his head no. “Are you claustrophobic?”

“No, I’m okay. I just have a problem with loud noises.” He grabbed on to Jack’s wrist and Jack moved his brother’s hand between both of his and squeezed.

“I understand. You press this if you need to get out, and I’ll be right in.” He gave Conor a small grey ball on the end of a tube, it fit perfect in a hand. Then he put the headphones on Conor and closed a small with cage of sorts over his head.

“I don’t want music.”

“Okay. Tell me if you change your mind. Your brother and I will be in the other room, but we’ll be able to hear what you say.”

Conor and Jack both held on a bit tighter for a second, then Jack let go. “It’ll be fine. Just relax.”

* * *

Alone in the room, laying on his back, staring at only the ceiling, his head locked tight, so he couldn’t move. It wasn’t all that bad, he was just going to lay there, nothing was going to touch or poke at him. If it wasn’t for the promise of loud noises he would have been just fine.

“Can you hear me Conor.” It was the technician.

“Yeah… Jack?”

“I’m here. I can see you through the glass all the time.”

Jack sounded secure and confident. For a second Conor was proud of his baby-brother to handle all this hospital-stuff this well. Just a few weeks ago Jack had been a mess. He had told Conor that himself.

The technician was talking to him again. “Press the ball for me. Just to check.”

“That’s great. Now just lay still.”

The table pulled him into the machine and as soon he was stationary the noise started.

It was loud, but at first it was okay. He could manage. Conor closed his eyes and tried to relax. The buzzing and loud humming made his head hurt. Just a normal headache, but if he was going to be in here for too long it would get worse, he knew that. He concentrated on the ball in his hand and made sure he wouldn’t accidently drop it.

“You good in there Conor?” Jack must have seen him fiddling with his hands.

“Yeah…” He took a deep breath to make his head hurt a little less. “How long am I going to be in here?”

“Twenty-five minutes, you’re almost at five.” The young man sounded encouraging, but his words were nothing but that.

“I’m not gonna make it that long.”

“Conor. Listen to me…” Jack was taking charge, and to Conor’s surprise it made him able to relax slightly. “… Breathe. Don’t think about what might happen, if it’s manageable now, that’s what you need to concentrate on. Now take a deep breath.”

Conor took a deep breath and was able to relax a bit more. His head was still getting worse, but right now it was not bad enough to make him get out of there.

“You are doing great. If you want to press that ball, it’s absolutely okay, but try to talk to me first. Okay?”

Conor took another deep breath. “Okay.”

Conor concentrated on his breathing. The sound seemed to get louder, ang the pain worse, soon the machine started making loud banging noises too. Those was the worst. It seemed like the sound and pain increased for every bang. It became difficult controlling his breathing and he couldn’t hear the air moving through his mouth and nose anymore. He tried moving a hand to his chest to get some kind of feeling of how his breathing was. It moved quickly, too quick. His head always got worse if he couldn’t breathe easily. He used his hand to get it somewhat back under control. The other hand locked tight around the grey ball.

“Ja… Jack?”

“I’m here. Hang in there Conor.” Did Jack sound worried or was it just his imagination?

“How…” He took a breath. “How long?”

There was a pause on the line. “Ten more minutes, Conor. You’re way over half way there.”

“I’m dizzy.”

“It’s quite normal to be dizzy from the vibrations and if you’re having a headache it’s understandable that it would be more prominent.” The man sounded understanding, but his long sentences and fancy words didn’t really register with Conor.

His head was getting bad enough that he was sure he couldn’t see if he tried to open his eyes.

“Will I have to start over if I stop?” The sentence left him breathless and he had to gather himself to not start crying.

_Breathe Conor. You’ve got this._

_Breathe._

“Conor? Did you hear that?” Jack was definitely worried now.

“Sorry. No.”

“You might have to try again later. It’s okay if it’s too much now. You can wait till you feel better.”

Conor wanted to get out of there, so bad. He was starting to wonder what would happen if he would puke in here, lying on his back. However, he really wanted to go home, and he definitely didn’t want to try again tomorrow morning. Who knew how long he would have to stay then?

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

Conor turned back to try and control his breathing. It was the only thing he could do. The only thing he knew how to do.

The machine started a new rhythm and the pounding became faster. Conor’s head was getting too big for the cage it was in, and it hurt all over. He became nauseous and soon he felt his hands twitching. Not like home, when they had been playing the game, but more of a constant shake. He had to move his hand from his chest to make sure he didn’t drop his safety ball.

_Breathe._

_It’s just a headache, you’re fine._

_Breathe_

For a while he managed to manage just talking to himself in his mind, but eventually the pounding, the noise and the pain became so much that he couldn’t form clear sentences that way. He had to have something concrete to grasp at.

“Jack?” His voice was ragged, and the sound was only slightly louder that a whisper.

“How’re you holding up Conor?”

“I’m not.”

Conor was going to press the ball any second. He promised Jack to talk to him first, but he was going to be sick and what if he had another seizure? He could hurt himself in here.

“Only two minutes left Conor. Can you do that?”

Two minutes sounded like an eternity, he felt his hands and legs shaking, it felt violently, but couldn’t have been too bad since he had to lay still, and they hadn’t stopped the test. His face was hot, and his lips were tingling. He bit his lover lip, trying to get some control, but had to stop since he needed the air more.

“Conor?”

“Jack. Count it.” He needed something real, like numbers, and a sense that time was actually moving.

“You want me to count down till you are done?”

“Please.”

“Okay, but press the ball if you need to anyway, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three…”

Conor was relived that some time had gone by, and it was now just over half a minute. The counting gave him something to concentrate on, but it was slow, so slow.

“…twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six…”

The pain was spreading to his body, first the joints, he was tensing up but couldn’t help it. He just held on to Jack’s voice counting. It seemed like it was going slower. The pain was in his stomach now and he wondered if he would make it through without puking.

“…eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…”

His stomach turned into a knot and he gave up on breathing trough his mouth. He bit his lover lip and panted through his nose. It wasn’t a matter of if anymore, he would most definitely be sick, now it was just a matter of time. Time which seemed to still get slower. What if it would stop? Every time Jack said a number Conor was listening, waiting for the next to come, not sure anymore if it even would.

“…fourteen…”

Please continue.

“…thirteen. Conor, you are breathing fast, are you okay?”

Conor wanted to reassure his brother, but he didn’t know how, if he let go of the rhythm of his breathing, however fast it might be, he would lose it, and who knew what would happen?

“Conor, press the ball if you want out.” It was the other voice, he had almost forgotten that there was another person there. He wanted out, he wanted to stop everything and roll up into a ball, but he was so close, he was not going to do this all over again.

“Conor.” Jack’s voice was back again. That and the pain from his teeth pressing into his lover lip, was the only thing keeping him in the real world. “Wave your hand if you can hear me.”

Conor lifted a shaking hand towards the window on the other side of his feet.

“Do you want me to go on?”

Conor lifted his hand again, and with the first number he took hold on the ball with both hands again.

“Six, five, four…”

Conor gagged, but bit harder on his lip and took a few breaths even faster and stopped it.

“…three…”

_C’mon Conor. You can do this. Three seconds._

“…two…”

He saw light, but his eyes were still closed, he was sure.

_I can’t. I need to stop._

“…one…”

_I need to get out, I’m going to be sick._

_I can’t even escape bright lights with my eyes closed. This is not normal._

Conor pressed the ball. He squeezed it hard and didn’t let go.

* * *

“Conor, let go. It’s over.” Jack had run through the door as soon at the technician had nodded that it would be okay. Conor was still on his back, eyes squeezed shut, biting his lover lip and the ball was lodged in his hands.

The dark-haired man came in right after Jack and started removing the cage and the headphones. He looked startled by the state Conor was in.

“Conor?” Jack brushed a hand over Conor’s cheek. It seemed like his older brother moved a bit to press against it, but he couldn’t be sure. He turned his attention back to his hands. He tried loosening one and make Conor hold his hand instead of the ball. “C’mon. Let go.”

When his hand was in Conor’s the other hand was easy, and soon he held both his older brother’s hands in his. “Conor. Rest now.”

Conor breathed a bit easier now, and Jack did too. He noticed the swollen lip on his brother. It seemed like it was going to hurt for days, but there wasn't any blood as far as he could see. The technician told Jack to make Conor stay on the table and that he would call someone to help.

“It hurts.”

Conor was only whispering, but Jack could hear that he was on the verge of crying. Then Conor gagged and as instinct Jack rolled his brother on the side, just in time. Conor didn’t open his eyes or let go of Jack’s hand while he threw up. Jack used all of his strength to keep Conor from falling to the floor. The man came over to help. He looked more at ease now, like this wasn’t the first time. When Conor was done he stopped shaking. Lying on his side holding on to Jack he opened his eyes.

“It hurts.”

“I know. Conor, I know. Close your eyes, lay back and rest now, okay.”

Conor did as told. Soon two more people joined them, and they got Conor moved to a bed. Jack thought he was going to be sick all over again, but Conor just held on tighter to his hand.

“I’m here Conor. Keep your eyes closed.”

As they got to the hall the light was brighter, and Conor tensed up. Even with closed eyes it must have bothered him. Jack pulled the sheath over his brother’s face and watched him tense a little less.

Back in Conor’s room they were left alone, with a message that someone would be in to check on Conor soon, and the doctor would be in tomorrow with the results of the MRI.

Jack was sitting on a chair next to Conor, face to face with his brother lying slightly on his side. Both Conor’s hands were still holding on for dear life to one of Jacks. Jack placed the other in his brother’s hair.

“You know it’s over right?”

Conor nodded slightly.

“You okay?”

A tear escaped Conor’s eye. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

Conor opened his eyes. The room was dark, still Jack was going to object, but the look on his brother’s face made him wait.

Conor grabbed Jack’s shoulder and tried to pull himself up. Jack moved to the edge of the bed and helped Conor to sit up in a hug. He held his older brother tight and whispered.

“I know. I know Conor. It will get better.”

They sat in the same embrace when a nurse came in. Jack eased Conor back to the mattress and Conor closed his eyes again. The nurse took his hand and soon the pain killer had made it trough his vein and he was able to relax a bit.

Jack sat back on the chair, still holding Conor’s hand. He brushed his cheek with the other hand. This time Conor definitely noticed and moved against the hand as if he didn’t want it to move away. Jack placed the hand in his older brother’s hair again.

“Rest now.”

Conor nodded almost unnoticeable and Jack leaned back, watching him relax bit by bit, and finally he was able to sleep.


	5. Supervised freedom

“Jack. C’mon. It’s like a prison.”

“What do you want me to do about it? You heard the doctor.”

“I just want to _do_ something. I’m going insane here.”

“You’re not. Besides we can take a walk when the sun isn’t this high.”

“Great. A supervised tour around the block.”

Conor left the living room. Jack heard the bedroom door close a few seconds later.

It was approximately the same conversation they had had four times already that day. They had only been in the hospital one night and the results of the MRI had been good. Conor was told that he should spend the next few days to a week without looking at any screens and staying away from bright lights, and that he shouldn’t be left alone. The first four days he wasn’t allowed to listen to music either or read. The first day had been no problem at all. He had been sleeping most of the day since it was the day after the seizure and the MRI and a not sleepless, but still not peaceful, night at the hospital. Day two had been boring but Conor was still tired and too nervous for this to happen all over, to argue with anything.

Now it was day three and Conor was fighting Jack on everything. They had cooked breakfast together but Conor was to restless and jumpy to agree on lunch, so Jack had just let Conor prepare and eat what he wanted and then made something for himself after.

It was now one PM and Jack was actually amazed that Conor hadn’t punched a hole in the wall yet. He was already annoyed with this way of living when he woke up this morning. The apartment was quiet, even Jack thought it was tedious these days. It wasn’t like he could play x-box and listen to music when Conor wasn’t allowed, but he did have his laptop and phone and he used it almost every time Conor slept or was angry in his room. Which gave him a lot of time. There was no sound coming from Conor’s room. The doctor had told him that it would be okay to listen to some audiobooks for short periods of time as long as he used a speaker and not a headset. Jack listened a bit longer. Nothing. Maybe he should go check if he was okay. Could he get migraines from being irritated?

He knocked almost soundlessly on the door as he opened it slowly. The room was darker than the rest of the apartment, but Jack could easily see Conor laying on his back in bed.

“Coming to check up on me?”

“No… yeah.”

“I’m not doing anything stupid.” Conor was definitely annoyed, Jack just couldn’t figure out if it was him or the situation that triggered it.

“I didn’t think that. I just…”

“What?” Conor sat up looking straight at Jack with piercing eyes. “You just wanted to see if I was flopping around on the floor! I hadn’t had any headaches and I’ve followed all the stupid rules. Get off my case!”

Jack didn’t answer he just took a step back and closed the door to Conor’s room. He put his back against the wall next to the door and slid down till he hit the floor. Had he been to protective? Maybe he had taken charge where he shouldn’t. His dad’s words reappeared in his head. “We’ll go home and accept that our kids are grown-ups.” “Your brother is an adult. He has to make these decisions by himself.” These last few days, he had been the caretaker, Conor had been too tired to do anything or argue, now he was doubting if he had overstepped. But he _did_ worry. He still did. What if Conor was in there right now with a migraine or worse? The memory of how Conor looked shaking and convulsing on the couch made his eyes burn.

Just half a minute later when the bedroom door opened Jack didn’t notice. He was resting his forehead on his knees, arms wrapped tight around both legs and he was crying. Conor sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, man. I know you only want to help.”

Jack didn’t answer but his shaking back from the strained breathing got more relaxed.

“Jack. I didn’t mean to yell, I know the seizure must have been more scary for you than me. I’m sorry, this is not your fault and I’m glad you’re here.”

Jack looked up. The cold air in the hallway made his wet face cold and he was suddenly aware of how much of a mess he must look like. He wiped his eyes with his hands and looked at Conor. Conor was clearly waiting for him to speak, but he had no idea what to say. Finally, Conor gave up on waiting.

“It’s almost quarter to two and it’s not that bright outside today. How about we go for a walk in a couple of hours? Maybe we should eat something on the way, we can always find a McDonald's or something…” Conor made sure they had eye-contact. “I’ll wear my sunglasses the whole time.” He smiled at Jack and Jack couldn’t help but smiling back. Conor hated wearing sunglasses inside, outside too if it wasn’t bright.

* * *

Even after the walk and the embarrassingly oversized McDonald's dinner, that had left them both huffing and puffing all the way home and now sweating on the couch, Conor still felt bad for yelling at Jack. His brother was worried and had done anything to help. He hadn’t made unreasonable requests and he had only referred to what the doctor had said when Conor had suggested something out of the rule-set.

Jack was sitting with his arms around his legs, not unlike the position he had been in outside Conor’s room, except, now he was on the couch and his head was leaned back and he was looking straight into the ceiling. Conor was curled up the same way but he was on his side, staring into the side of the coffee table.

“Jack?”

“Conor, if you’re going to be sick, I know it’s not because of your head. Just don’t take too long, I’ll might have to go soon.”

Conor smiled and exhaled in a soundless chuckle.

“I’m not… not right now anyway. I just want you to understand…” He trailed off, not sure Jack was listening.

“Understand what?”

“That I’m glad you are here… You know, taking care of everything… of me.”

He _was_ glad. This had been scary, it still was, but if Jack hadn’t been here, even if someone else had been, it would have been too much to handle.

“You’re food-hungover. You’re rambling.”

Conor couldn’t see Jack’s face but he could hear that he was smiling and finding his big-brother’s overshare amusing.

“I mean it.”

“You would have done the same. Oh wait, you already did.”

“Just take the damn compliment.”

Conor heard Jack take a few deep breaths, either he was starting to hyperventilate, or he wasn’t kidding about being sick.

“I will, thanks.”

A few seconds passed in silence. Conor’s stomach was still acting up, but it seemed like it wasn’t getting worse as long as he was lying completely still. That much salt, fat and sugar at once was definitely not a good idea. Could a human body even process all of that?

Jack was starting to shift a bit; his stomach must be hurting too. He'd had a cheeseburger and a whole milkshake more than Conor.

“Jack, sit still or get off. I’m trying not to spill here.”

Before the last word, Jack was off the couch and moments later Conor heard the bathroom door being torn open, is sounded like it was being ripped from its hinges, but he convinced himself that Jack wasn’t that strong.

“You okay out there?!”

“I’m good. I…”

Conor decided that, “good” was confirmation enough. He didn’t need to hear he sounds coming after. He covered his ears. 

He laid there till Jack’s hand was on his shoulder. Conor removed the pillow and looked at Jack hunched down right in front of him.

“You okay?”

Jack looked better, but clearly worried.

“Oh yeah. It’s not my head, I just figured that the prospect of my food staying down would greatly increase if I didn’t hear the sounds you were making out there.”

Jack’s face lit up with relief like a switch was turned. “Yeah I get that… but I’m kinda beat now. I think I’ll turn in. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah. I’ll go soon too. Just have to wait a bit before I move.”

Jack squeezed Conor’s shoulder when getting up. “You should try getting rid of some of it. It helps.”

Conor gagged and sent Jack a look of hate, that only brothers can give each other, and still be sure that both know it’s a joke.


	6. Trial and error

They had gone to bed quite early so both were up before the sun next morning. After a small lunch for Jack and nothing but water for Conor they decided that they would try and walk the last of the meal from yesterday out of their system.

“You good?” Jack noticed Conor walking slower than usual and breathing kinda heavy.

“I’m okay. Maybe I should have taken your advice and gotten rid of some of that stuff yesterday.”

Conor smiled but not directed at anyone.

“Maybe we should head home. Get some rest?” Jack’s eyes were locked on his brother. He had to be certain that he was alright and that this was only because of questionable diet choices.

Conor stopped and turned to Jack. “Jack, stop okay. I’m fine. I just ate to much yesterday.” Conor wasn’t angry, he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and Jack understood that his brother was only concerned that he worried too much.

“Okay, but please tell me if your getting a headache.”

“Sure thing.” Conor smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder, then they started walking again.

They were almost at the park before Conor started walking as his old self. It seemed that the walk had been a good choice, even for Jack. He felt better too, was able to breathe more freely and didn’t had the sweats anymore. Conor sat down on a bench and leaned back. Jack joined him.

“Better?”

“Much. You?”

“Definitely. A shower and I’m all good.”

Conor nodded and they just sat there a few minutes before Conor broke the silence.

“Maybe we should head back now. I mean before it gets too bright.”

Jack stood up. “Good idea. You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s keep it that way.” He fist-bumped Jack’s shoulder and winked. Jack couldn’t help but smile. His brother was in a good mood, and he’d missed that.

After a few minutes of walking they turned a corner and Conor stopped and put on his sunglasses. Jack noticed it being slightly brighter on this street, but the sun wasn’t over the buildings yet.

“Everything okay?”

Conor hesitated. “Yeah, just a small headache, nothing to worry about. Might even be from all the greasy food.”

Jack’s stomach knotted and he’s breathing sped up. They had to get home now. It was the fourth day after the seizure and the migraine set on by the MRI, and Conor hadn’t had one since. He hoped Conor was right, that it was only the meal, Jack had woken up with a small headache himself this morning, so it might be, but he wasn’t sure, they couldn’t take that chance.

“Let’s just get home.” Jack picked up the pace and Conor followed, but a few blocks down the street Conor started to slow down.

Jack grabbed his upper arm. “Conor?”

“It’s getting worse. Lets just get home.” He started walking again but looking down and shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.

Jack didn’t talk. He just concentrated on getting Conor home. Going as fast as he could, without bumping into people, the streets were starting to fill up, and without making Conor out of breath, he was already there himself.

Jack didn’t turn on any lights when they got home. Conor was relying more and more on him to guide the way and he was getting heavier to support in his walk. Jack maneuvered them through the hall and into Conor’s room.

“Here. Lay down. I’ll get the pills.”

“It’s not that bad. Maybe it’s just the food.”

“It’s not. Conor you need the pills. C’mon.”

Conor curled up in a fetal position and closed his eyes. To Jack that was just as good as him saying “Okay, you’re right.”

He left his brother to fetch the pills from the bathroom and filled a small tub with towels and cold water too. He grabbed a bucket on his way back.

“You come prepared.” Conor was trying to smile, but Jack could see that his brother knew that all the stuff was going to become useful and that it scared him.

Jack put everything down within reach and gave Conor the pills. He grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand and kneeled down next to the bed. “How bad is it. If the MRI was a ten and zero is no pain?”

“Four, maybe.” Conor sat up a bit to drink from the bottle.

“I’m sure the painkillers will stop it from getting any worse.”

Conor grabbed Jack’s shoulder to control his movement, laying down on his back again. “You don’t sound so sure.” Jack was sure he saw a hint of a smile on Conor’s face, but it was soon gone.

He moved the bucket close to the bed, just in case. Then he wringed one of the towels and placed it on Conor’s forehead.

Conor grabbed his wrist and moved the hand and towel away. “Don’t.”

“What?”

Was it not the right thing to do? It had helped before, or at least Conor had seemed like it was a good thing in the middle of all this.

“You don’t have to. I’m okay on my own.”

Damn his brother’s pride. Hadn’t they been through enough this past year, to erase any pride or embarrassment?

“Tough luck big-brother. I’m here.”

Jack placed the towel back and took his brother’s hand in both of his. He felt Conor squeeze his hand, but he was weak, and the grip got looser every minute.

Conor’s breathing got strained like he was concentrating on every breath. Then he grabbed tighter on to Jack’s hand.

“Conor? How bad?” Jack was whispering but Conor heard him and opened his mouth to answer but got interrupted by the urge to throw up and he gagged. Jack let go of his hand’s and grabbed his shoulder and head.

“Easy now. Just breathe.” He rolled his brother slowly to his side, and the pained moan, almost a cry coming from Conor, gave his own stomach flashback to the night before.

When he got closer to the edge of the bed, Conor tensed up and grabbed onto Jack. “I’ve got you bro. Relax and let me help.”

Conor seemed to relax a bit, but still holding on to Jack. They stayed like that for a moment. Conor concentrating on his breathing and not throwing up, and Jack holding him in place, ready to move both his brother and the bucket if needed. He didn’t even attempt to pick up the towel from the floor.

“Conor?” Jack whispered. Not really wanting to interrupt is brother, but he had to know. Conor hummed in response.

“What is the number now?”

Jack watched Conor take a few deep breaths before attempting to answer. “Seven.” Then he threw up. It seemed like it went on forever, and Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he was able to hold his brother in the bed. Conor was not able to do anything but throw up and grab on to Jack’s shirt.

“It’s okay. Just get it out. You’ll be fine.”

Conor panted and gasped between bursts of sick. “Jack?”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Conor looked up for a second. “No, Jack. What if… what if I…?”

“Save it. Not now. Let’s just get through this okay?”

Jack didn’t get an answer, except for Conor sticking his head in the bucket for another round.

When Conor finally stopped throwing up and Jack was convinced that he didn’t have any more in him, he slowly rolled his brother to lie on his back. Conor moaned again, semiconscious.

“You with me?”

Conor nodded ever so careful, and Jack was able to relax just a little bit. He grabbed a new towel from the plastic tub and started washing his brother’s face. First time he’d done that it had seemed weird and uncomfortable, but now he didn’t even think of it. Conor’s eyes were squeezed shut and his chest was moving too fast still. He placed a clean cold towel over his brother’s forehead and eyes and grabbed his hand. Conor held on tight. Jack stole a quick look down the bucket containing the mess his brother had discarded, and just as he thought he saw before; a small white pill was in there. Dammit. What about the other? Jack was sure both of them must have come up, he just couldn’t see it. Nothing could be left in Conor now. Should Conor take more? How much was already in his system? Maybe he could just give him one?

“Conor?” Jack really didn’t want to make Conor talk right now. He just wanted him to relax and get better. Talking didn’t help. Conor hummed in response.

“Shh. Don’t talk. Just squeeze my hand for yes, okay?”

Conor squeezed Jack’s hand.

“Are you still at a seven?”

Jack felt his brother squeeze again.

“So, it’s not worse?”

No movement.

“Okay. I’m going to go outside and call the doctor.”

Conor held tight as Jack stood up. “N-no.”

“Shh. No talking. You threw up the pills, I’m just going to ask him what to do. Nothing more. Okay?”

Conor squeezed the hand and then let go.

“Just breathe for a second, I’ll be right outside.”

Jack left the room with tears in his eyes. He was the one afraid of hospitals and doctors. He wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone, especially not his brother. He hoped with all of his heart that this was only because Conor didn’t want to move or involve more people.

After explaining everything to the doctor he was reassured that he could give Conor one more pill and then another after an hour if he didn’t get better or if he didn’t get too drowsy and confused from them. Conor did tend to get really sleepy from the pills, Jack was sure that’s why he didn’t want them in the first place, but he hadn’t gotten confused before, so if that happened Jack would know not to give him any more.

He pulled over a chair this time and sat next to his brother. He brushed slowly over his shoulder and Conor turned his head in Jack’s direction. He was still wearing the towel, so he couldn’t see him, but he managed to give a small smile.

“The doctor said that you can take another pill. Maybe that’s a good idea.”

Conor squeezed for yes.

Without asking for a number Jack knew that Conor was still in pain, maybe even worse than before. He accepted that he shouldn’t talk, and he wanted the painkiller, with no hesitation. Jack found the pill-bottle and the water.

“Okay let’s do this slowly.”

Jack sat on the bed next to Conor’s head and lifted it oh so slowly on to his thigh. “Here you go.” He placed the pill in his brother’s mouth and held the water bottle to his lips. As Conor started to lift his head a bit more to drink, Jack helped with his other hand.

“That’s it. No more.” Jack moved out and placed his brother’s heavy head back on the pillow. He wringed a new towel and changed the one over Conor’s eyes without letting in any light, not that there was much in the room. “Relax now.”

The next half hour was spent in silence. Jack was holding Conor’s hand and brushing up and down his forearm with the other. Conor seemed to get a bit better. His breathing got easier and the moments where he’d been tensing up got further apart and finally stopped altogether.

 

“Jack.”

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Jack moved in a bit closer. None of them were speaking louder than a whisper.

“Better. I guess.”

“Number?”

“Maybe a five.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” Jack changed the towel again, but this time Conor moved it up so he could see.

“Jack. What if…?” Conor looked sad. Jack had hoped that the question his brother had started to ask before was the pain and exhaustion talking and that it would be all gone now, but clearly it wasn’t.

“What? What is it?”

“What if this is me now? What if I have to live with this?”

“It’s only been four weeks since the accident. The doctor sad that this was going to take time.”

“He also said that it could become permanent if I wasn’t careful. I haven’t been careful.”

Conor’s eyes welled up and Jack had to swallow to control himself not to do the same. The migraines were horrible, but he knew how to help with that by now, but his big-brother being scared like this, was new and he had no idea how to handle that.

“Listen. I told the doctor everything before. He didn’t seem worried. He didn’t even suggest that we came in. He told me that this happens and that, this thing is a trial and error recovery. We shouldn’t be scared.”

“He said that?”

Jack smiled. Conor must still have been a bit out of it. “He did, and he said the same thing at the hospital remember? Now relax and maybe get some sleep.”

Conor laid back down and after ten minutes he was sleeping. When Jack was sure that it wouldn’t wake up Conor he started to clean up the room.

When he was done and there was nothing left to do but to wait for Conor to wake up, he sat down on the floor outside the room. This was insane. How did he end up being the reasonable one talking his brother down? He put his head on his knees and relaxed for a bit.

* * *

“Jack?”

Jack woke up in the same position. His ass hurt from sitting on the floor and his legs were numb, but Conor’s voice had called his name so he was fumbling around to get standing before he even opened his eyes fully.

“Take it easy will you. Calm down.”

Jack looked up. Conor was standing in the doorway. He looked good. Better than the last time he’d met him there after a migraine.

“Are you okay?” Jack’s voice was raw from sleep.

“I’m just tired. Are you okay?” Conor looked worried.

“I’m good, just fell asleep, my legs aren’t really working.”

They both laughed when Conor almost threw Jack onto the couch and Jack’s left leg just kinda hang crooked on to the floor.

“How’s the head?” Jack rubbed his legs while talking.

“Just a small headache now. Nothing to talk about really.” Conor seemed like his old self again and Jack wondered how long he’d been sitting outside that door.

“So, you’re not worried anymore?”

Conor sat down. “Those headaches make everything seem scary. I’m not worried. Besides it’s been four days since the last one. I see that as improvement. Don’t you?”

Jack nodded and used his hands to move his leg into a more normal position. The blood was coming back to his feet and he decided that that was all the movement necessary right now.

* * *

The next few weeks were trial and error just as the doctor had said, but Conor never had a migraine as bad as that one again. The last time he needed to take the painkillers were two weeks later and that time he was able to stop it before it turned in to a real migraine. The headaches got further apart, and he was able to start making music again.

Jack was reluctant to move out of the apartment but in the end Conor had basically kicked him out. “You need to get back to your life too. You got your cast off three weeks ago, you don’t need my help cutting the pizza anymore.”

Jack realized that he worried too much and that they both needed time to get back to normal. He knew that Conor was better, still he made him promise to check in once a day for the next week and to call if he had a relapse, no matter how small.

Jack had thought it was an empty promise, but it made him feel a bit more at ease anyway. Conor sent a text every morning and every evening for five days. Jack almost started to feel sorry that he made Conor do that, because now Conor was making sure Jack was okay and didn’t worry… again. But the fifth day Conor called around eight PM.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You sound tired.” Jack was instantly at high alert.

“I am. It’s been a long day. I don’t want you to worry, but I promised I’d call.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and before he knew it he was putting on shoes and looking for his keys, still on the phone.

“It’s just a headache. It’s not that bad. But I figured you’d kill me if you found out and I hadn’t called.” Conor was spot on. He’d promised and even though Jack never thought that he’d keep that promise, he would have given him hell not to.

“I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have too. I’m okay, really.” Jack wouldn’t have stopped to listen to reason, not even if Conor didn’t sound as nervous as he did.

“I’ll be there in fifteen. Now get of the phone and some place quiet.”

Jack hung op and was already out the door.

 

When he entered the apartment Conor was on the couch drinking water.

“Did you take the pills?”

Jack had kicked off the shoes in the hallway, but he was still struggling with the jacket.

“No. It’s just a headache. I’m okay. Sit down before you strain something.”

Conor looked tired, but he had said that it had been quite the day. Jack stared at his brother for a moment before realizing that Conor wasn’t worried anymore. He was able to breathe for the first time since the phone rang.

“How long has it been?”

Conor looked at his phone. “A little over two hours, but it’s better now that I’m home and sitting down.”

Jack and Conor talked about the day for over an hour and then Conor proclaimed that he almost didn’t feel it anymore and that he wanted to sleep. Jack was tired too, so they turned in for the night.

 

Lying in the guest room in Conor’s apartment he realized that Conor would be okay. He had overreacted, but he was still glad that he came to make sure that his brother was okay.

* * *

On the other side of the wall, Conor was almost a sleep but with a smile on his face. This was over, he was sure of it. He had overreacted, but glad that he’d called Jack. Having him there had made him calm down just enough to be able to sleep without worry.


End file.
